.

Now I hold that however rasping a man's words may be, if he handle the
sick with gentleness, there is much goodness under the rough surface.
Thoughtlessness and stupidity, I know, are patent excuses for half the
unkindness and sorrow of life. But thoughtlessness and stupidity are
also responsible for most of life's brutality and crime. Not
spiteful intentions alone, but the dulled, brutalized, deadened
sensibilities--that go under the names of thoughtlessness and
stupidity--make a man treat something weaker than himself with
roughness, or in an excessive degree, qualify for murder. When the
harsh voice asked, "Do I rive ye sore?" I began to understand how
surface roughness is as often caused by life's asperities as by the
inner dullness akin to the brute.

Indeed, if my thoughts had not been so intent on the daughter, I could
have found Mr. Sutherland's character a wonderfully interesting study.
The infinite capacity of a canny Scot for keeping his mouth shut I never
realized till I knew Mr. Sutherland. For instance, now that
consciousness had returned, I noticed that the father himself, and not
the daughter, did all the waiting on me even to the carrying of my
meals.

"How is your daughter, Mr. Sutherland?" I asked, surely a natural enough
question to merit a civil reply.

"Aye--is it Frances y'r speerin' after?" he answered, meeting my
question with a question; and he deigned not another word. But I lay in
wait for him at the next meal.

"I haven't seen your daughter yet, Mr. Sutherland," I stuttered out with
a deal of blushing. "I haven't even heard her about the house."

"No?" he asked with a show of surprise. "Have ye no seen Frances?" And
that was all the satisfaction I got.

Between the dinner hour and supper time I conjured up various plots to
hoodwink paternal caution.

"Mr. Sutherland," I began, "I have a message for your daughter."

"Aye," said he.

"I wish her to hear it personally."

"Aye."

"When may I see her?"

"Ye maun bide patient, lad!"

"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight
hours passed since I had regained consciousness and I had heard neither
her footsteps nor her voice?

"Aye," said the imperturbable father.

"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added.

"Aye."

"When may I see her, Sir?"

"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad."

"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once."

"Then deleever it word for word to me,